


Sling

by Aki_Saiko (saikowrites)



Series: Writober 2019 [19]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Inktober 2019, M/M, Missing Moments, Regret, Sort Of, Spoilers, Suffering but with a happy ending, Writober 2019, sling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saikowrites/pseuds/Aki_Saiko
Summary: The deadline to steal Shido's heart is approaching and everything is ready. Everything but Akira, trapped in his head and unable to face and accept Akechi's death.WRITOBER 2019 | Day 19: Sling | Based on the official Inktober 2019 prompt list.





	Sling

**Author's Note:**

> Unplanned shuake is best shuake amirite.  
Big thanks to [Discontinuous Qualia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sechzehn/pseuds/Discontinuous%20Qualia) who helped me building the setting and introduced me to Proof of Justice aka the holy grail of mourning shuake.
> 
> Tbh, today's prompt had been stretched a bit, but this in particular was very difficult and even though the original idea I had planned for today was more fitting, I liked this one a lot more.

Cold on his wrists. A stinging discomfort burned in his shoulders. He moved but his hands were cuffed to a chain secured high up above his head, so that he was left hanging from the ceiling; only the tip of his feet touched the ground. Leather creaked at the movement and he recognized the familiar texture of his Joker gloves.

Akira cracked his eyes open, but his vision was blurry. Glimpses of blue and red hit his retina and he blinked once, twice. The familiar prison cell of the Velvet Room took shape before him, and something was off. No wooden board on his right, nor run-down toilet on his left. The locked door of his cell had somehow vanished, and the stone floor and velvet carpet of the hall were wearing some unordinary red and gold palette. There was no desk in the middle of the round room, no Igor sitting on a fancy chair nor Twin Wardens glaring at him, either.

In their stead, a slender figure in royal white attire, with a princely sword pinned at his side in its scabbard and fingers curled up to his chin in reflection. His body tensed and a familiar, charming voice spoke in polite tone. “You’re awake.”

Akira’s own voice echoed from the cell, just louder than a whisper. “You’re alive.”

Akechi chuckled and the memory of pleasant talk in some lazy summer afternoon hit Akira straight in the stomach. The boy walked towards him taking his time. “Am I really though? This place only exists in the realm of dreams, after all.”

Akira caught his gaze, free from any mask. “Did you know about the Velvet Room?”

“The Velvet Room? Is it how this place is called? I’ve visited it for the first time when I awakened Robin Hood and hence held two Persona. It’s always been empty though. Only a red velvet carpet with golden letters embroidered in it and plain stone walls.” He stopped at the entrance of the cell and tapped at the bars. “I’ve never seen these blueish cells before. So, I’m assuming these ones are from _you_.”

His heart dropped a beat and a sting of embarrassment heated his face. Visiting the Room had always been somewhat humiliating, yet Igor and the Twins offered him some great help with fusions and strengthening, so he had forced himself to get accustomed to the prison cells and everything. And, nobody knew about it. “In my dreams, a Master and two Wardens inhabit this Room.” Akira answered, “Which, yeah, is blue. It’s a place outside of reality, placed between outer world and dreams.”

Akechi’s eyes run to the chains that trapped him. “Are you always chained up like this?”

“No.”

“You spoke about prison guards.”

Akira bit his lip but didn’t lower his look. “I usually visit this place as a prisoner, but… let’s say I’m at least able to move inside the cell.”

“So, what’s different now?”

Akira fought back the urge to shrug: his gaze wandered and focused on a distant spot. Igor had told him something about the Room mirroring the state of one’s heart, and sure enough Akira had a long record of feelings of imprisonment, stillness, inability to act. Dreaming of the Room had always been like seeing his subconscious exposed in reality, he had been forced to witness his place as a misfit, trapped by society’s rules, and he hated it. And now, there he was, his Room fused with Akechi’s one, a chain holding him back from doing anything. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t even breathe without pain stinging his muscles. And he couldn’t come closer to the other boy, couldn’t touch him like he had strived so much in the months before his death.

He looked at Akechi again. He stretched his legs to gain more grip on the ground, but the handcuffs cut through his flesh and he hissed.

“What happened?” the boy asked, “I left you in the sick palace born from my father with a promise. I now see you trapped in your own dreams. What happened, Joker?”

Akira’s mouth twisted. He forced himself to answer but he couldn’t bear the angry and apprehensive look and lowered his head. “_The room's appearance mirrors your own heart and feelings, trickster,_” he quoted in a whisper.

Akechi frowned. “What is holding you back? Shido’s heart-”

“His heart has yet to be stolen.” He spat. “Futaba’s already arranged everything, but the order is mine to give. We have two days left.”

“But you can’t.”

“Honestly, I’m lucky I’ve actually been able to get some sleep tonight, or Morgana might have beaten me senseless after another night awake.”

“Are you scared?”

“Terrified. But that’s part of the job.” Akira’s hands struggled against the restraint. “He’s ruined my life. He’s ruined your life. Much more than ruined.” He spelled the words to mask the cracks in his voice.

“This is not about me.”

“It is. We made a promise.” It slipped from his lips, and Akira froze still. Akechi rose a quizzical eyebrow. He took some small steps closer to him, eyes narrowed in thought. And they opened wide. “The room’s appearance mirrors one’s heart,” his mouth pronounced. “Joker,” he realized, “your heart is trapped.”

Akira’s smile was wire. “I’m afraid so.”

Akechi burst into a laughter. “This is funny. Hilarious. Had I known dying was my way of weighing you down, I would have been the one to stage a fake death, I assure you.”

“I suppose you’ve got me with the ‘I wish we’d met some years earlier’ part.” Akira joked, but his look was dead serious. “I knew your schemes, yet I tried to reach out to you for months. The police arrested me and tortured me, and even if Sae believed me, I faced the fact that I failed.” Another tug at the chains. “But in that engine room… you were speaking to me. Just to me, for the most part.”

Akechi sighed. “You noticed.”

“Your subtlety skills need to be leveled up.”

“Yours must be maxed out, then. You almost never let anything slip off from your mask.”

“Almost?”

“You nearly haven’t said a word while I was dying behind those shutters. Yet, here you are. You used to flip the café sign as soon as Sojiro headed out; yet, you’ve always let me stay at Leblanc way past closing time. You were the one and only to lead the group in the Metaverse; yet, you allowed me to join you in spying the enemies from behind the corners.”

“Can’t fool a true Detective Prince, I suppose.” Akira found the will to smirk. “Almost.”

Akechi’s hand rose, but it stopped mid-air. “Is my death bothering you so much?”

Akira hadn’t been sleeping for _days_ now, his mind full of ifs and scenarios, his inside twisted by guilt and remorse and the burning desire to rewind time and erase that one, terrible mistake. He would have been smarter, faster, he would have opened a bit more, a bit sooner. He would have known better what to say, and how to get Akechi to listen. He would have set things right; he would have prevented a tragedy. He would have – “Yes,” Akira said and gave up on his tired, aching body. His life would have been better without Akechi’s death, and he wouldn’t have had to stand the tear in his heart for letting it happen.

A gloved hand lingered on his cheek with soft, gentle touch. The spike of electricity in his body paralyzed him, but he followed Akechi’s pressure and forced himself to lift his chin again. Doubt crossed the other’s face. Disbelief. And something close to… fondness? “Morgana said I didn’t hate you” Akechi said in low tone, every charm dissolved, “and it was true. To a certain extent. I meant what I’ve said before the fight, I had truly despised you and your group. I hated your fetish of justice, and I hated you the most, for being everything I’ve never been.” His fingertips clenched tighter on Akira’s face. “But I was also somewhat grateful to you for trying to see the real me. Not the charming tv star, nor the vile who killed tens of people for his own personal goal. You are smart and your mind is sharp; you hide well behind those glasses and only give to acquaintances and friends what you are comfortable with giving.” His digits moved and traced the shape of Joker’s mask. “I’ve hurt you; I’ve tried to kill you. Twice. For that, I don’t think I’ve expressed enough how wrong I was. I’m sorry. I know it’s not much.”

Akira’s eyes narrowed. “You died to protect us. To protect _me_.”

“This doesn’t seem to be any consolation to you.”

“It’s not.”

“But why?”

Akira’s chest was heavy. He took a deep breath and said it out loud. “It was my fault.”

“You have no blame to take, Joker. You’ve been a perfect leader, and this time I’m not mocking you or resenting you. It’s simply the truth.”

Akira opened his mouth but closed it, words stuck in his throat, mind filled with unfulfilled possibilities. Akechi’s hand left his cheek and his skin screamed at the loss of it. The boy’s gaze is hard before his eyes. “You aren’t like this, Kurusu Akira. You’re brave, you’re cocky, your mind runs faster than your mouth and your heart is – _was_ – always free. The boy I was so envious but also so fond of is better than this. Raise your body and fight back.”

A spark. Blue fire in his soul and anger in his body. “I did it” he screamed “I faced death twice, because I had a reason to stand and go on. I took every single one of your hits in fight and endured it because I believed in you. You were better than that, too. I did everything I could to save you and I failed. Regret is eating me alive even though I know I did more than everything to save you. I hate it.”

Pressure softened against his wrists and the crack of a broken chain echoed in the room. Akira’s feet touched the ground and slender arms held him from falling. Akira’s blood turned to flow in his hands, and they itched. His shoulder screamed for the sudden movement, but the pleasure of the release spread trough his body. His eyes closed. “I miss you. I don’t know what I’d give to have you back. And I’m so tired.” He muttered in the other’s neck.

Akechi made him stay still again but didn’t retreat from the embrace. “I missed you, too. When I was about to die and rose my gun one last time.” Akira pulled away and watched the boy in those russet eyes. Discomfort built up in his stomach, his lungs, his throat; his mind grasped back the concept of time flowing. Blue flames enveloped his body and brought back his boring, normal, reassuring school uniform, but his vision wasn’t framed inside thick fake glass anymore.

Akechi chuckled and followed him, evoked back his usual winter uniform attire. No briefcase was by his side and no gloves covered his hands. “You need to go,” he whispered, “hearts must be stolen, and society must be reformed.”

“In a minute,” Akira grumbled. He took a black lock of his wild hair between fingers and wrinkled his noise in thought. With pounding heart, he grabbed one of Akechi’s bare hands and placed it on his cheek again. He inhaled sharply at the contact and locked their gazes. He waited.

Akechi’s mouth twisted in a smirk and he clenched the grip, used the other hand to reach for the lapel of Akira’s black blazer and pull them closer.

Akira burned in the kiss, his eyes shut, and his body flooded with satisfaction and held-back tears and the need for more. He prevented Akechi from leaving the kiss, caught his lips, drew him even closer by placing his free hand on his side, bit his lower lip until it was swollen. But the boy tugged at his jacket, and he pulled back with dissatisfied stare.

“You have filled and then emptied my ‘things to do after dying’ list in just one night. Talks about prodigy.” Akechi teased. He laughed and kissed Akira again, and again, and his smile brushed against Akira’s lips at every new contact.

The distant ring of the alarm clock came muffled to Akira’s ears, but he didn’t bother interrupting anything. “I think,” he said with a grin, “I may have other hearts to steal.” Akechi’s eye rolled in a silent ‘idiot’. Akira giggled. “Thank you.”

“It was too early for checkmate,” Akechi replied. “Go now. Show the world the true potential of a trickster.”

Akira stared at dark red eyes and lifted his chin to taste those sweet, soft lips one last time. His own eyes closed, and his body became lighter than air for a moment.

He woke up in Leblanc’s attic and the shadow of Akechi’s touch was still buried on his body. His heart, stolen to be set free.

**Author's Note:**

> Previous work in the collection: Persona 5 - Ryuji - Misfit  
Next one in the collection will be: Bravely Default - Edea


End file.
